


I'd Lie

by profound-boning (farawaystardust)



Series: Dean Winchester Loves Taylor Swift [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Castiel Plays Guitar, Dean Plays Guitar, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by Music, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Love Confessions, M/M, Songfic, extremely cheesy, extremely fluffy, only a tiny bit of John bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farawaystardust/pseuds/profound-boning
Summary: "Did you write that song for me, Cas?"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mansikka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/gifts).



> Many thanks to my beta [Kat](http://punkascas.tumblr.com/)

Being head over heels for your best friend is, in Cas Milton's opinion, pretty much the worst thing ever.

Luckily, no one ever has to know. The only ones who do are the stuffed animals in his bedroom and his guitar.

Yes, he's every bit a high school cliché, but Cas doesn't care.

Ever since he and Dean took those guitar lessons back in elementary school, he can't stop playing.

Dean did, but he shouldn't have quit. He was damn good at it, but he had stopped coming to their lessons by the end of middle school. Cas wonders sometimes if Dean does play, maybe early in the morning before he leaves for school or late at night after getting home from wrestling practice.

Dean and Cas are best friends. Have been since they were little. But lately, Dean has been… acting.

Sometimes Cas can see it happening. He can watch the mask settle over Dean's almost-too-pretty features when they're walking into the school building or when John Winchester gets home.

Suddenly the goofy and smart boy that Dean really is vanishes, replaced by a façade of macho, arrogant, flippant man's-man.

Cas understands Dean's deep-rooted desire to please his father, to be the best son, the best big brother he can be. But Cas wishes it didn't have to be like this.

He wishes for the things he can only verbalize in song.

He's sitting cross-legged on his neatly made bed, pen in his mouth and notebook in front of him. Squinting at the hastily written lyrics below the simple chord progressions, he mutters to himself,

 _"And I don't think it ever crossed his mind_  
_He tells a joke, I fake a smile_  
_But I know all his favorite songs…_

And… and… Damn it." Cas spits the pen to the side and rubs a hand over his face. For whatever reason, the next bit is just not coming to him.

He flops backward with a huff and strums the chords for the chorus absentmindedly.

There's a light knocking on his door that he almost doesn't hear.

"Anna, come in, I'm just—"

"Not Anna, dude. Sorry to disappoint." Dean's smirking face appears around the door. "Can I come in anyway?"

"Y—yes, yeah. Of course," Cas stammers, shooting upright as Dean comes to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Hey! I didn't know you still played, Cas." Dean smiles at him, gesturing to the guitar in his arms.

"Yeah, I am. I mean, I do." He can’t exactly concentrate on forming words when his notebook is resting open right next to Dean’s thigh.

Of course Dean notices it. He makes to grab for it, but Cas snatches it. Dean gives him a bewildered look, eyebrows raised and lips pursed but smiling.

"What, got a bunch of dirty secrets in there?" Dean jokes like Cas isn't sweating through his shirt right now.

He chuckles weakly and cradles the book tighter. Dean notices this, too, and his bemused expression turns fond.

"Will you play for me, Cas?" Dean asks gently like Cas is a frightened animal.

Placing the notebook carefully behind him, he wiggles a bit to get more comfortable. Dean’s gaze never leaves his face, but Cas can’t return it. Instead, he does a fast bit of fingerpicking—he wouldn’t admit under pain of torture to wanting to impress Dean with his skills—staring down hard at the guitar. Dean’s presence sets every system to high-alert.

When they hang out, it's usually playing video games with Sam or going to a football game or to Meg Masters's house parties. Even when it's just the two of them, doing homework or reading or lying on the grass in Cas's backyard, it's never felt like this. Some strange, new energy churns the air and makes Cas's heart pound inside of his chest.

"Cas." Blue eyes meet green. "Play what you were working on before I walked in?"

Cas plays through the familiar chords of his newest creation, still not able to look Dean in the eye.

“But there are lyrics, aren’t there? That’s what the notebook is for, right?”

Cas knows Dean. He's known Dean practically their entire lives. The boy is like a dog with a bone when he wants to be.

He closes his eyes, and sings.

 _"I don't think that passenger seat_  
_Has ever looked this good to me_  
_He tells me about his night_  
_And I count the colors in his eyes_  
_He'll never fall in love he swears_  
_As he runs his fingers through his hair_  
_I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong_  
_And I don't think it ever crossed his mind_  
_He tells a joke, I fake a smile_  
_But I know all his favorite songs…_

So… yeah.” Cas clears his throat awkwardly. “That’s, uh, where I want the chorus to go and the chords to repeat,” he explains. “I just haven’t quite figured those words out yet, I guess.”

Dean hasn't said a word. Dread collects in the pit of his stomach. He had hoped there wasn't too much personal detail, that it was still generic enough that Dean wouldn't realize it was written the night he gave Cas a ride home in the rain last week.

"Dea—"

"That was awesome, Cas. It—. You sounded great," Dean says earnestly. The knot in his gut loosens a little.

"Thank you. Like I said, I’m just plugging in the right lyrics. I've got the hook though." He strums two chords.

_"If you asked me if I love him, I'd lie…_

That's, um, that's the title. I think. I'd Lie," he clarifies, picking at the strings again.

"Yeah, that's perfect, Cas. It sounds really, really good, man," Dean says. They sort of look at each other for a long moment. "Listen, I, uh, I gotta head home. But I'm—I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Cas knows that Dean’s compliments are sincere, but he’s a little thrown off by his sudden need to leave.

"Of course, Dean." He’s not going to make Dean stay if, God forbid, he’s figured it out.

Dean nods to himself and stands, but he doesn't move to the door. He's still staring at Cas and Cas is staring back. The more often this happens, the more Cas thinks that maybe Dean is just as mesmerized, just as captivated as he is.

But at the same time that seems impossible. Dean is bold, sometimes crass, fearless, and brilliant. He doesn't keep his feelings hidden in the pages of a notebook. Dean would have said something.

As though he suddenly realizes they've been locked in a staring contest for two minutes, Dean blinks hard and walks away quickly. Cas listens for the sound of his feet on the stairs and then out the front door.

Cas inhales. Exhales.

 _"He stands there, then walks away_  
_My God if I could only say,_  
_'I'm holding every breath for you'…"_

Sleep doesn't come easily that night.

The next evening finds Cas in the same spot. Homework finished before dinner, Anna at her job at the movie theater, their dad out and about, and Cas stretched out on his bed, guitar in hand.

He's about ready to throw his notebook out the window when he hears loud knocking on the front door. Suppressing his hopes up about who it might be, he rushes downstairs to open it.

And sees Dean Winchester standing on his porch.

With a guitar case in his hand.

"Hey, Cas." Dean smiles, easy as anything. "I, uh, can I come in? I want to show you something." He shuffles his feet, and then adds, "You'll need yours too, actually."

"…Oh! Uh, sure, come with me then." Cas leads them both up the stairs to his room, and picks up his guitar before settling down on the bed. Dean pulls up next to him in the desk chair with his guitar on his lap. It's not the same one he had when they were younger. It's larger and looks a little older, like maybe he bought it secondhand. But it's gorgeous, black and sleek like his beloved Impala. When Dean strums it, the strings hum in perfect harmony. He keeps it in tune.

"You still play?"

"I never stopped," Dean says, flushing a bit and avoiding Cas's eyes. "So I, uh, I was hoping you'd play that song again, the one from yesterday. And I'm gonna jump in, too, if that's alright."

Cas forgets to breathe for a second. Before yesterday, he had never played a song he wrote in front of another person, never bared his soul like that, and now Dean wants to duet?

But he plays the intro anyway, and sings through the first verse just like he did yesterday. Dean picks up the (admittedly simple) four chord pattern and plays with him, but this time when he hits the missing lyrics, Dean’s voice fills in.

 _"And I could tell you, his favorite color's green_  
_He loves to argue, born on the seventeenth_  
_His sister's beautiful, he has his father's eyes_  
_And if you asked me if I love him, I'd lie."_

If Cas was surprised before, he's shocked speechless now. That energy is back; it crackles and splits the air between them. They don't drop their gazes this time.

Leaving the guitar on the bed, he crowds forward into Dean's space. Dean carefully slides the guitar off of his lap and his legs fall open, allowing Cas to stand in the space between his knees.

"Cas—"

"Do you mean it?" Cas brings one hand up to brush the dark blonde hairs off of Dean's freckled forehead. "There's a whole second verse still and maybe a bridge; I don't know yet. But that was—it was wonderful. And—. You—. Are you fucking with me, Dean Winchester?"

"No, Cas," Dean breathes, moving his free hand to Cas's hip and wiggling one finger through the belt loop of Cas's jeans. "I'm being serious. You know that's not my strong suit, but this is important. I just—" He blushes. "I was hoping that you meant me."

"Ask me," Cas challenges, cupping Dean's jaw in both of his hands. "I won't lie this time."

He both feels and hears Dean's next inhale.

"Did you write that song about me, Cas?"

"Yes. I did." Cas's heart might just fly right out of his rib cage. "Did you write about me too, Dean?"

“Yeah, Cas.” He wraps his arms around Cas’s waist to pull him in a bit closer, and gently bumps their noses together. “God, you’re beautiful,” Dean breathes with a look of total adoration on his handsome face. All Cas can see is green.

“Can I kiss you?” Cas curls his fingers into Dean’s hair when Dean nods and closes his eyes.

Cas meets Dean’s soft lips with his own, and swears he can hear a new melody beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> the rest of the lyrics if you're curious:
> 
> verse 2: He looks around the room  
>  Innocently overlooks the truth  
>  Shouldn’t a light go on?  
>  Doesn’t he know that I’ve had him memorized for so long?  
>  He sees everything black and white  
>  Never let nobody see him cry  
>  I don’t let nobody see me wishing he was mine  
> 
> 
> bridge: He’d never tell you but he can play guitar  
>  I think he can see through everything but my heart  
>  First thought when I wake up  
>  Is "My god, he’s beautiful."  
>  So I put on my make-up  
>  And pray for a miracle  
> 
> 
> [on tumblr](http://profound-boning.tumblr.com/post/151523555999/id-lie)


End file.
